Poetry
You Are Here > Research Room > Research workshop > Creative Workshop > Poetry A metaphorical poem: Life goes along, each in our journeys, The winds of fate steer us in different directions. You set the sail, you track it where it goes Avoiding storms and clouds, which may be on your way. You may meet others, crossing the same path, Board their ship, have lunch with them, But pirates come, and steal your booty one day, Just stop and rest, and find others to share, Still others do not wish to explore, They follow the gallant sails of a big ship, always listening to what it says, (where it goes) never deviating, thinking of themselves, Then again, be wise, my friend, Find your own course! Never be oblige'd, Never follow the jeweled carracks, lest you be drained, And adventures on your boat, you will face till you're sped. Let it be my sweet pea..fall delicately from that leaf..It's dinner time! There are some things we don't know, and well never know, I hope, How do you know? how boring to know all, whats the point, Ah, I see...its a dead end haha Maybe it's impossible to know everything. Maybe it's impossible to know whether it is impossible to know everything... Or so on. life is the persuit of knowledge, when we stop learning we die, this is a good thing in its own way, we become specialist, we are atuned to our time, in order to grow we need to evolve, we do this thu the generations, one teaching the next, each reaching higher, until you get to the moon, if we return it is your responcibity, this is history the phoros know how to build pryamids, the inca knew stones, we still dont know how they did it, this is the way of knowledge, it is hard to learn easy to lose, we just utilise what we have learned and past on, this is the knowledge age, this is a age of data bases, databases control our food, we are slaves to data bases, without them we would starve, this is how dependebnt we have become on them, we have (Almost) created silicon life, almost. If one false statement is proven, whether obviously or not so much, we know that the rest will fall, if 2 equals 1, for if I and the pope are two, then we are one. And we can prove other things. that there are fuzzy unicorns, and that there aren't fuzzy unicorns. we can prove mind over matter, and be as gods, and prove the opposite, revert back, we can also metaprove. prove that the math, that the false statement's proof is in, is itself false, and we can prove its truth, but we've proved the first one, that means we can't prove. what do we do? then math is broken! so we now know, that what is false is false, and what is true is true. and that we must learn, to take our convictions, wherever they lead us. A poem on incompleteness: We know now, there are statements that are true, But we can't prove them in any way, for if we do, that would mean there are false statements, that are provable. That leads to problems, so we have to say, there will always be problems that elude us, proofs that huddle together away from our light of reason, we will always have more to explore. How many scientists do you know? Scientists do it for the fun, looking past the moon, watching all the stars at night, they well all be famous soon, they have searched the oceans floor, and set foot prints on the moon, plumbed the depths of titan, and gone past pluto's moons, i look up and send a dream upon a distant star, we set here folding, please pass a spoon'...ummm soom good apple pie One may look at the stars, but what you find up there, is no better than you'd find, on the earth below your feet,. The rocks you may be see'n, Not a trace of any gas, Or scalding, broiling hea, tOr shiv'rin in the cold Looking farther, you might feel, the needle might be therebut alas, the worlds we find, are still not any good But when you just look down, the diversity of life! Our verdant greens, O2 to breathe,make this our gleaming world. The next time you may pine, to sail the far-away sky, you'd better look once more, on the world we call our home. A tornado poem: The sun rises, but little do they know, that the atmosphere is 'bout going to blowThey start about their daily business, while the cumulus grows, atmosphere-blessed At noontime, lunch is eaten while the whole sky clears up, the tension still mounts, as the atmosphere warms. It is 3 pm, the cap is in place, the strong breezes blow, Who knows when it'll break? The first clouds punch through, Forming with ferocious speed, And more and more come, each with their felt caps. The big ones spread outreaching the top of their domain, but some still punch through...Look! One's heading to town! But inside the storm-The shear's starting to grow, A spin it does impart, and smaller and faster it goes. "It's spinning ever faster, dark and onimous it glares"say the townspeople who watch, on the lowering bottom there...The sirens start to blare!!! And just outside of town, the cloud is going down. it's kicking up some dirt, and then tornado strikes. Going toward the farms, swallowing them in its dark heart -The ruddy soil also imparting a tinge, and all the crops by hail are also dinged, It starts toward the factories, yet growing stronger still.one moment still pristine, the next quite damaged and bare. It's still bulking up...half a km wide, it tears toward the houses, lifting the roofs while the walls fall down, It barrels toward main street -the trees are as in a stunned silence...barreling down, tearing up, anything in its path. It passes through some houses, but they aren't there no more, the concrete swept clean, it's a tangled, twisted mess. On a rampage through town, it still continues to go -a km-wide scar on the ground, flying boards, cats, everything. Heading out of town, it's dissipating now...coiling out, getting thinner-- longer---and slower all the way, and yet with one last gasp, it now lifts off the ground, the people, all are dazed, the horror of the town -Everything is twisted, gonea war zone in peace time! The rescue teams arrive, to help the trapped inside, but some are already dead, trapped in this awesome storm. the clouds start to clear, the rubble and debriscan be more easily seen. As people figure out, what to do next with their lives, shattered, broken, strewn, the sirens blare again. -Support pseudonymous doggerel, write more poetry! wow cool it slowly dawns on me, but its sunset in the rockies, and then its gone and then its back, it comes, it goes, life follows a wiki, can you dial me home? Let P be not PLets do what we want to beTake the arc of historyDo me a favor - Throw it up and be free Our possibilities are infiniteWhen that light is litA child's mind gets itWe'll solve matter like we're built for it Believe it's easyBecause collaboratively weMore than each one would beWe Grow together - each exponentially Questions are ideas isn't it?Lets learn how to build itThink it Do it See itKeep saying it because it's infinite We'll never stop, never quitIt's like we're fixed on a bitSo to the next person you seeJust tell them it's on you and me Oh, did you think it's not possible?It wouldn't be doable and buildable?Realize what you're able of and just seeWe is a wave just starting to get fun It's a wave that won't ever get doneDid you really think there was a limit on what you could be?That the universe was finite, we were at our height, never what might be? Standing siloited againts the sun, hair blownig on an island wind, toes curled in its rocky shore, she stands like the mighty oak, Seedlings at her feet. I spring from your wisdom, off to teach and seek, with great freindship i leave you, standing tall and proud. Home is where the heart is, Put your mind in that quantum state, And be at peace, which is, Everything leading to your minds gate, O, the pages are starting to flow, like spring water over the Rockies. Finding every nich and cranny. Turning searching hiding. I well find you. And yet more pages be, falling like snowflakes, pileing around me, they gather in snowdrifts, and gather under my feet, I send data bases flying, gathering all around, searching hi and low, until no more could be found, and finaly link all pages, scartered near and wide. They sweep me off my feet, and set me gently down. . . . . . ole ole oxin, All home free. Category:Itskimo strategy